


Walking the Mile

by xWitchAlchemistx



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Body Swap, Bromance, Brooklyn, Christmas, Friendship, Pre-Serum, Santa Claus - Freeform, Wish
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-13
Updated: 2014-05-24
Packaged: 2018-01-24 14:25:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1608386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xWitchAlchemistx/pseuds/xWitchAlchemistx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A year after the death of his mother, Christmas is just a week away and Steve is feeling out of sorts. A fight with Bucky leads to a gloomy wish on the North Star. The wish takes the form of him swapping bodies with Bucky, a wish that will become permanent if not undone by Christmas Day. Steve's left with a choice between his best friend...and the life he's always wanted.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Long Road

**What? Another fic with Steve and Bucky? Am I obsessed? Oh, no. I'm just...okay, yeah, I'm obsessed. But that's okay because...it's Steve and Bucky...which makes it okay. Well. Enjoy! P.S. I know there's different canons for their ages and so on and so forth [even within the movie-verse]...I'm going with the one where Bucky's a year older than Steve. I like that dynamic. Enjoy!**

**~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~**

Steven Rogers hadn't intended to get in a fight, he really hadn't. A few guys had started mocking and he'd just ignored it and kept walking, because what were words, right? But then they started mocking Bucky, and calling him _trash_ and other more colorful words and it just wasn't in him to ignore that.

Which was how he ended up with a split lip, the beginnings of a black eye, an aching gut, and an ever-present irritation at the universe that saw fit to make him the type not to run from a fight, but unable to actually back it up. Maybe the universe thought every thing was balanced, since it had given Steve _him_.

"You a**holes think you're pretty tough? Three against one? How 'bout ya try those odds with _me_." At seventeen, Bucky could have passed for two years older at least. He was tall, with a shaped face and a sturdy body that woman found 'dreamy' and other men admired. In a word, he was the _opposite_ of Steve. Just the sort of guy who would looked down on Steve, just the sort of guy he'd hate and be slightly envious of, except that for some weird reason, Bucky was Steve's lifelong best friend.

The men seemed a little nervous when Bucky came, but there were three of them and one of him. They thought that put the odds in their favor.

They thought wrong.

After Bucky had thoroughly trounced the men and sent them packing, he turned his attentions to Steve. At once, the admittedly intimidating, tough-guy became friendly and concerned, if a bit arrogant as he reached a hand to Steve to pull him up. "Jeez, Stevie. I go to the bathroom for five freaking minutes and you gotta start a fight." he clapped a hand on Steve's back to brush off the dirt, and Steve pulled away with a frown.

"They started it. I was finishing it."

"Kinda looked like they were finishin' _you_ , pal." Bucky chuckled, a light tease.

Steve knew Bucky didn't mean anything by it, it was just how he was. He didn't realize how much that kind of thing hurt though. His best friend rubbing salt into the already open wound. "Maybe you need glasses." he muttered, and regretted it when he saw Bucky's eyes narrow in a mixture of concern and annoyance.

Bucky slid an arm around Steve's shoulder. "What's eatin' you? You weren't this grumpy earlier."

Earlier he hadn't gotten knocked around by a bunch of idiots and then scolded for it by the guy he'd gotten in the fight for in the first place.

Steve shrugged him off and forced himself to relax. It wasn't Bucky's fault he was...the way he was. He thought about his reply a moment, before he admitted at least part of the truth. "I guess it's just this time of year...it'll be the second without..." he trailed off, and Bucky's suddenly soft expression was a clear indicator that he'd understood.

Christmas was about a week away, and it would be the second without his mother. She'd died only about a month before Christmas the previous year, and Bucky had really gone out of his way to make it a good Christmas for Steve anyway. One of his best, in fact. But it didn't mean he didn't miss his mother, or that seeing all the happy folks with their families didn't make him a little bitter.

"Sorry, pal, didn't think of that." Bucky said softly, and Steve wanted to kick himself. He was giving Bucky attitude after he'd given him a hand, and Bucky was still just worried about him.

Steve willed himself to banish the fog of negativity that had settled on him over the past week and offered Bucky a smile. "It's okay...I've still got you, right?"

Bucky's grin was like the damned sunshine, it warmed him and burned him all at once. "You've always got me, Stevie. And we're gonna have us a time this Christmas." he assured Steve.

Steve's smile was genuine then, he just couldn't win against Bucky. "Looking forward to it, Buck." he clapped a hand on Bucky's arm.

Bucky's grin remained until his expression registered that he'd suddenly remembered something. "Oh, crap. I forgot what time it was, we gotta get you cleaned up."

Steve's smile slipped, because he had a feeling he knew where this was going. "Why's that?" he asked anyway.

"We've got us a double date. _Twins_." Bucky said the word almost reverently and Steve fought a sigh. Double dates with Bucky turned into Steve being the fourth wheel.

"I don't really-"

"-C'mon! Don't be a buzzkill, pal. This is just what ya need to cheer up! A little holiday...fun." Bucky said with a faintly lascivious grin.

"Bucky, they're there for _you_ anyway...how about you just have fun without me?" Steve really wasn't in the mood.

Bucky's expression became slightly annoyed. "It's not just for me, they know it's a double date. But you gotta actually try talkin' to 'em, you can't clam up and expect 'em to fall all over ya."

And that was yet another of the sorts of things Bucky carelessly said that hurt him. He wasn't _trying_ to be unkind. And in fact, it almost showed more of how much Bucky cared that he was mildly oblivious to the way others treated him when Bucky wasn't around. Bucky seemed to think that because he adored Steve, every one else would just fall in line. In the same vein, he seemed to expect Steve to get picked on, and for him to not get dates, but attributed it to poor social skills on Steve's part. "I do talk. And they ignore me. And then you end up with both girls and I'm the wallflower."

Bucky frowned. "You really are out of it tonight, aren'tcha? You know that's not how it is." he said dismissively.

Steve fought the urge to throttle Bucky. "Not tonight, Buck..." he tried to be gentle about, but he just wasn't going. End of story.

...

"I heard you beat up Robbie Latten...I wanna hear that story." gushed one of the girls, while her twin not-so-subtley stroked Bucky's arm.

Steve had ended up going. And just like he'd predicted, he was the fourth wheel despite his best attempts to smile, be friendly, and strike conversation. "I'm going to the bathroom." he said 'cheerfully'. The girls didn't pay him a glance, and Bucky gave him a distracted, "Yeah," as a reply. He shook his head to himself as he headed to the bathrooms.

He loved Bucky to death, he really did. They were family, as far as he was concerned. And despite the temptation to be jealous of him, Steve did a real good job of just focusing on how great Bucky was to him. But sometimes, he hated him a little bit, he couldn't help it. And he hated that he did, but... Bucky could be crueler in some ways than any of the guys that picked fights with him, just because he did it so carelessly. Because Bucky loved Steve, but he didn't _believe_ in Steve. Being hated outright was almost easier to deal with.

But given the choice, he wouldn't change having Bucky in his life. Bucky was about the only good thing _in_ his life anymore.

Steve took care of his business in the restroom, and started to head back out, only to find himself faced with a regrettably familiar face. One that still sported a bruise from where Bucky had decked him last week when he'd tried to bully Steve.

"Well, well, look what we got here." The boy sneered.

"Look, I'm really not in the mood tonight, could we maybe do this another time?" Steve tried to move past him, but he found himself shoved back.

"Oh, you're not in the mood? Too bad, cause I am. I'm gonna pay you back for last week, you little s***."

Steve internally sighed even as he brought his fists up defensively. "Last warning, walk away."

Needless to say, the boy didn't heed it.

Which was how he found himself being saved by Bucky for the second time that day. Bucky had apparently gotten concerned when he took so long to come back, and he'd found Steve inches away from a swirly when he'd yanked the boy back and put the fear of Bucky into him.

Bucky hauled Steve up by the arm, and it irritated Steve as it always did that Bucky had strength enough to move him around like a ragdoll. They were almost the same age, but who'd ever guess it?

"Y'know, if you're gonna pick a fight with every guy that looks at ya funny, could you at least wait until the date's over?" Bucky grumbled.

And Steve, who had been taut as it was, finally snapped. "Well, _sorry_ , to interrupt your _stupid_ date! I'll try to pick a more convenient time to have my head shoved in a toilet."

Bucky looked taken aback. "Settle down, what's got into you? I was just jokin', y'know I don't mind givin'ya a hand..."

"You're _always_ joking, Bucky. That's the problem. Everything's just _one big joke_ to you. And I'm usually the punchline." He could tell Bucky didn't get it and he shook his head as he pushed past and headed out.

"Hey! Steve, wait-" the door closed behind him as he headed out the front door with the intention of going home. But all too soon, he heard the doors swing out after him.

"Hey! Stop! Steve!"

Steve didn't stop, but it didn't take Bucky long to job up alongside of him and put a hand on his shoulder to force him to stop walking and face him.

"Look, whatever I did to piss you off...I'm sorry...but you gotta tell me what's wrong. It's more than your mom, somethin's bothering you. I know you, Steve. You can't hide it."

Steve wanted to laugh at the irony of it. He'd been hiding it for years. "You're fine, Bucky. I'm just...I'm not good company tonight, I tried to tell you that. I'll see ya tomorrow." he made to turn, but Bucky kept him in place with a firm hand.

"No, don't gimme that. What's wrong?"

"I said _nothing_. Let go."

Bucky lifted a brow and clamped a hand around one of Steve's wrists. "Not until you tell me what's wrong."

Steve may have looked like a child, but between them, it was Bucky who seemed inclined to act like one. "Bucky, please, I'm fine. It's just been a long week. A little sleep and I'll be golden. Let go."

"I'm not buying it. Tell me what's wrong." Bucky insisted, concern overruling much else.

Steve's frustration hit a pique again and he slammed his fist down on Bucky's arm as he tugged his own away. He knew he hadn't hurt the other much if at all, it was surprise mostly that got Bucky to release him. "How many times do I have to say it? There's nothing wrong!"

Bucky's concerned expression became annoyed. Bucky was hot-headed, and while Steve had a generous amount of leeway with him, Bucky had his limits. "What's your problem, Rogers? You've been biting my head off all night."

"You're my problem!" Steve snapped, and Bucky blinked before his eyes narrowed.

"That right? That's a real nice thing to say to the only friend you got." Bucky snapped back.

The words were a slap in the face and Bucky didn't even _realize_ it. Steve laughed mirthlessly. "Yup, you're right. My only friend. I should fall in line like the rest of them and stop making a fuss, right?

"That's not-Steve...what are you...I don't wanna fight with you! I'm just trying to help!"

"That's just it, I don't _want_ your help!" Steve snapped back, and the brief flash of hurt on Bucky's face nearly made him break down and apologize right then and there. But Steve's frustration and stress and too much time spent brooding about his mother and his future had left him on the edge and Bucky [as well as two beatings in the same day] had inadvertantly pushed him over.

"Well...fine then!" Bucky snapped back. "Do what you want! See if I give a damn!" he glared at Steve a moment before he turned on his heels and stalked back into the building.

Steve was all mixed up inside. A mixture of anger, and frustration, and sadness, and now warring guilt and regret. Bucky had only been worried about him, he knew that, he'd only been trying to help. He didn't mean to be callous. Steve didn't really want him to leave. And in fact, now that he thought about it, the idea of going back to his lonely little apartment was almost physically painful.

He looked back at the building and debated going after Bucky. He'd be forgiven in short order if he apologized, Bucky could never hold a grudge where he was concerned. But in the strange mood he was in, Bucky might just set him off again. Bucky's less charming quirks, which he could usually let slide, had grated on him and he didn't want to fight with Bucky again. Steve would get the sleep he'd mentioned and apologize the next day, and everything would be fine.

He still didn't feel quite like going back to his apartment though, and so he decided to take the long way back. The walk would do him good, and the crisp, December air would clear his head.

Shops were all aglow with Christmas lights, and the festive music hung in the air from different stalls and shops. There were even some carolers in the park. It made him nostalgic and sad all at once.

_"Merry Christmas, Stevie." Bucky said, as he held Steve close the first Christmas after his mother had passed._

_Steve had gripped him like a lifeline, grateful for the family he had left-for Bucky. "Merry Christmas, Buck."_

Steve sighed heavily as his footsteps slowed, and the thought was enough to pierce the aforementioned negative fog. What was he doing? Why'd he let himself get so worked up over nothing? And brood about stupid things? Bucky didn't need his Christmas season messed up just because Steve had had a mid-teenage-life-crisis. He'd find him in the morning and set things straight. The memory of Bucky's hurt face was a bit of a punch in the gut. But the memory of his thoughtless words made him a little queasy.

"Look, sweetie, that's the North Star. If you make a wish during the Christmas season, Santa might grant it."

Steve glanced over at the mother and daughter who were pointing skywards, and he followed with his eyes to the North Star. A star that granted wishes in honor of Christmas. That would sure be nice. He thought of Bucky, his grin and his annoyance, his hand as he offered to help Steve up and his hurt face. And he thought of the pain in his lip where he'd cut it on a tooth being punched, thought of the way Bucky always had to come to his rescue, thought of the way hate slithered into his heart and made him feel like a terrible person.

"I wish I wasn't me." he muttered as he made his way back home.

The star overhead seemed to twinkle just a little brighter, but Steve's gaze was already on the road ahead.

**~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~**

**So...tired...ZzzZZz. XD Okay, so this wasn't like I planned. Well, sort of. Bucky saves an already emotionally stressed Steve, Steve gets grumpy and says things he doesn't really mean after Bucky drags him off to be a fourth wheel, makes an inadvertant wish. Chapter ends. Whee. But it's kinda all in Steve's voice and Steve is kinda being an emo. And as I analyze it, and his character, it's all reasonable, I think. But I wasn't expecting to write in that voice. XD I dunno if I like it or not, it's different from my usual style. If I do keep it up, Bucky will have his voice written out as well. And we'll see both characters' sides and feelings. But worst come to worst I could try to just rewrite the first chapter...X-x WHAT DO YOU PEOPLE THINK? Because I really don't know. I have good plans for this story, I just dunno if it's okay in this style, I suppose? ;-; Enjoy. But also opinions. Because...I just dunno. ;-; ~Witchy~**


	2. March of the Weary Soldier

**And so it continues.  I might filter back into a more uniform writing style, but for this next chap at least, I'll keep the voice-thing up. This is a parallel of the first chapter, but written in Bucky's perspective. Thought it'd be a good comparison to get a feel of where their heads are at before I flow into the story. Well. Let's see. Thanks again! XD Enjoy!~**

**~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~**

_"Well, Mr. Barnes...welcome to United States Army."_

It was a signed, sealed, and delivered deal. James Buchanan Barnes was going off to fight the good fight for Uncle Sam's army. And the weight of the acceptance paper in his hand had been one of the heaviest things he'd ever held, just that little slip of paper. The paper that said he was shipping away from the only life he'd ever known, from the only family [Steve] that he had, to risk his life fighting in a war that he really didn't want to be a part of. It wasn't that he had anythin' against his country, or even fighting, and he'd known that he'd have to enlist sooner or later. But he mighta waited a little longer, stalled the inevitable, tried to make sure Steve had a nice little niche set up while Buck was gone.

But _no_ , Steve insisted they try and enlist, and Bucky had been roped into training him a bit at the gym, even though he _knew_ what was comin'. Bucky had been accepted, Steve had been rejected, and their inevitable separation loomed on a dark horizon as far as he was concerned.

It was sad, really. Steve had more guts and patriotism than any guy Bucky had ever known, he'd fight tooth and nail, he was a regular Stars and Stripes _good ole boy_. But he had the body of a tiny asthmatic to go along with that great big heart of his, that head full of dreams, and no amount of gym-training was going to change that.

Bucky tried to push the thoughts aside as he left the bathroom. He had to enjoy the time he had, try to do _something_ for his pal before he got shipped off.

"Think yer a tough guy, huh? Not so tough now!"

Bucky heard the jeering, and soon enough saw the cause. Three guys against Steve, who had been knocked to the gorund and given a bloody lip and budding black eye. The scene was familiar, but no matter how many times he saw it, it made his blood boil like almost nothing else.

"You a**holes think you're pretty tough? Three against one? How 'bout ya try those odds with _me_." Bucky's tone was cocky and mocking, but his eyes were cold as he sneered at the men.

They didn't seem impressed, and that was just fine with Bucky. He didn't mind giving them and up close and personal demonstration of what it meant to pick on _his_ best friend.

When all was said and done, Bucky turned to Steve to give him a hand up. He forced himself to relax and bleed the anger from his tone. He knew Steve was touchy about being helped out, and he never seemed to appreciate the rage and concern Bucky felt on his behalf. So he tried to make it light and casual. "Jeez, Stevie. I go to the bathroom for five freaking minutes and you gotta start a fight." he clapped his hand on Steve's back to brush away some of the dirt, but Steve pulled away and frowned at him.

"They started it. I was finishing it."

"Kinda looked like they were finishin' _you_ , pal." Bucky replied with a chuckle, there was little else he could say or do but to make light of it.

"Maybe you need glasses." Steve muttered, and it was Bucky's turn to frown.

He slid his arm around Steve's shoulder as he looked down at his best friend in concern. Situations like these never made Steve happy, but usually his friend liked to drop the subject and move on to something else. "What's eatin' you? You weren't this grumpy earlier."

Bucky noted the feel of the rag-worn coat Steve was wearing. It was about a size or two too big, and a few years old. It had patches from where his mom had stitched it up, but Bucky knew it was doing little to stave off the cold these days. Steve didn't have money for a new one, and he'd never complain out loud, but Bucky noted the way Steve would rub his arms and clutch at it sometimes, and he knew from experience that offering his coat wouldn't go over well. But he had something in mind to fix that, at least.

Steve shrugged him off and Bucky let that lie as he listened. "I guess it's just this time of year...it'll be the second without..."

_Aw, crap._ Bucky realized instantly what Steve referred to, it would be the second Christmas without his mother. Bucky had done his damndest to give him a good one the year prior, planned on the same for this year, but still...no wonder Steve was moody. Bucky softened his tone. "Sorry pal, didn't think of that."

Steve smiled and spoke, and Bucky felt his heart swell with familiar affection and a desire to draw the other boy closer. He wanted to protect him and that smile, to keep him warm and happy. "It's okay...I've still got you, right?"

Bucky grinned. "You've always got me, Stevie. And we're gonna have us a time this Christmas."

Steve smiled and Bucky knew it was in earnest. He could read his pal like a book. "Looking forward to it, Buck." he clapped a hand on Bucky's arm.

Bucky grinned back at him until he remembered suddenly. "Oh, crap. I forgot what time it was, we gotta get you cleaned up."

"Why's that?" Steve asked, and Bucky didn't miss the way he lost his smile. So he tried to keep a cheery tone.

"We've got us a double date. _Twins_."

"I don't really-"

"-C'mon! Don't be a buzzkill, pal. This is just what ya need to cheer up! A little holiday...fun." Bucky grinned, and tried to get Steve in the mood.

"Bucky, they're there for _you_ anyway...how about you just have fun without me?"

"It's not just for me, they know it's a double date. But you gotta actually try talkin' to 'em, you can't clam up and expect 'em to fall all over ya."

Bucky didn't want to hear that from Steve, he didn't like hearing pessimissm from his usually [ridiculously] optimistic friend. But he knew Steve wasn't wrong, and it cut him more than Steve realized. He _wanted_ Steve to be able to go on dates carelessly, he _wanted_ Steve to find a nice girl, even just to fool around with. And while Bucky considered taking care of Steve his job and he'd never want that taken from him, he wouldn't mind if there was someone else around to keep an eye on Steve-especially while he was gone to war. So he tried to encourage Steve to go on dates, both to keep him from brooding alone in his room while Bucky was out, and on the hope that some dame would wise up and realize what a catch Steve was.

Sure, Steve was...frail. He couldn't be a soldier, he got sick pretty often and needed some extra TLC...but he was the best guy Bucky knew, the best he'd _ever_ know, Bucky was sure. And in a way, Bucky thought that if Steve could join the war, he'd make one Hell of a commanding officer. The guy was sharp, he thought on his feet, he was bold and courageous, and loyal to a fault...he'd lead his men through Hell and back like a champ and watch their backs all the while. But Steve was a bit of a dummy too; trusting and a little naive, and too good-natured over all. The kind of guy that might think with his heart over his head sometimes, that might not be able to make certain sacrifices...in that way, Bucky was glad he couldn't join the war, selfish as it was. Because even though he was in danger of getting beaten up, it was better than him being shot at, or being stuck in a frozen somewhere and having an asthma attack, or not getting enough to eat. Bucky hated that Steve was miserable, that he couldn't have what he so desperately wanted...but Bucky was glad that he'd be safe and untouched by the harsh realities of war. He didn't want his best friend to change, he wanted that light in his eyes to never go out.

So he ignored Steve's protests and made on like it was nothing. Because Steve wouldn't take the truth well, and because he was unwilling to let Steve mope.

"I do talk. And they ignore me. And then you end up with both girls and I'm the wallflower."

Bucky frowned. That wasn't untrue, and he knew it, and Steve seemed to think it didn't bother him but it _did_. Even so, Steve wasn't usually so blunt about it, he usually just went along with it. "You really are out of it tonight, aren'tcha? You know that's not how it is." he said dismissively. If Bucky agreed with him and explained his reasonings for taking Steve anyway, he wouldn't take it well. He'd think Bucky was taking pity on him, and that wasn't it. He did it because he loved the kid like a damned brother, and he _wanted_ all the good things in life for him. And sometimes Steve gave him this look that made him sick to his stomach. Like he didn't quite believe in Buck, like maybe he thought Buck was just making Steve his own personal charity case instead of seeing him as an equal. Like he thought Buck just thought he was weak, and no matter what Bucky said, that little hint of doubt was in Steve's eyes. And that stung. If Steve only knew what Bucky saw when he looked at him...jeez. Steve was a hero who'd never get the chance to shine, but to Bucky at least, he was blinding as the sun. He was goodness and light and everything that Bucky wasn't and never would be. Which made him all the more desperate to protect Steve.

"Not tonight, Buck..." Steve had said, but Bucky was persistent. And persuasive.

And well, he knew how to push Steve's buttons.

...

"I heard you beat up Robbie Latten...I wanna hear that story." gushed one of the girls, while her twin not-so-subtley stroked Bucky's arm.

Robbie Latten, that one hadn't involved Steve, that had been one his own fights. And he'd trounced the little prick, that was for sure.

Steve mentioned going to the bathroom, but engaged in his story and the girls hanging off of his arms, he gave a simple, "Yeah," as a reply. That being said, his eyes followed Steve towards the bathroom, but he decided that Steve couldn't get into much trouble on his own. He hadn't seen any familiar, unfriendly faces about.

Bucky kept on with his story a good few minutes, but when Steve didn't return, he began to get concerned. The absence didn't mean that Steve had gotten in a fight, but it could mean that he was brooding. And as Steve had said, the girls were more interested in Bucky. And he felt bad about that, he did, but he couldn't just ignore the girls. Taking care of Steve and having a life weren't mutually exclusive. Even so, he gave the girls a wink and a quick, "Gotta use the restroom, back in a sec."

And sure enough, as he entered, someone was trying to give Steve a swirly.

Suffice it to say, Bucky introduced his head to a toilet instead.

He hauled Steve and grumbled. "Y'know, if you're gonna pick a fight with every guy that looks at ya funny, could you at least wait until the date's over?" He was irritated, mostly at himself for not noticing the danger, and at the prick who'd tried to give his best friend a swirly. But telling Steve was, of course, taboo because Steve took being protected personally. Still, the vehement response he got came as a surprise.

"Well, _sorry_ , to interrupt your _stupid_ date! I'll try to pick a more convenient time to have my head shoved in a toilet."

"Settle down, what's got into you? I was just jokin', y'know I don't mind givin'ya a hand..." He hadn't been trying to offend Steve, he was just worried about him. A date didn't nearly rank in his priorities compared to watching Steve's back. Not even close.

"You're _always_ joking, Bucky. That's the problem. Everything's just _one big joke_ to you. And I'm usually the punchline."

Bucky's brow furrowed at that. Steve was the punchline? What the Hell was that supposed to mean? Steve stormed off and he followed. "Hey! Steve, wait-" Bucky hurried out the doors after him. "Hey! Stop! Steve!" He caught up to the other and swung him around with a hand on his shoulder. "Look, whatever I did to piss you off...I'm sorry...but you gotta tell me what's wrong. It's more than your mom, somethin's bothering you. I know you, Steve. You can't hide it."

Bummed out about his mom was understandable, annoyed about the girls and being beat up on was understandable, but something...something was _wrong_. Bucky could tell, and it ate at him. He couldn't stand to see Steve hurting or unhappy.

"You're fine, Bucky. I'm just...I'm not good company tonight, I tried to tell you that. I'll see ya tomorrow."

Steve tried to turn away, but Bucky held onto him. He wasn't letting Steve run off to sit in his little apartment alone and sulk or rage or cry, or whatever this was. "No, don't gimme that. What's wrong?"

"I said _nothing_. Let go."

Bucky lifted a brow and clamped a hand around one of Steve's wrists. "Not until you tell me what's wrong."

"Bucky, please, I'm fine. It's just been a long week. A little sleep and I'll be golden. Let go."

"I'm not buying it. Tell me what's wrong." Bucky insisted, concern overruling much else. Steve had softened a little, as if to convince him, but Steve's desperation to get away only heightened his worry. He seemed to think it was wrong somehow to lay his burdens on Bucky's shoulders, when it fact, Bucky considered that...well, part of his existence. Taking care of his family, of _Steve_ , was part of what made his life...well, complete.

Steve slammed his fist down on Bucky's arm as he tugged his own away, and Bucky released him in surprise. "How many times do I have to say it? There's nothing wrong!"

Bucky's expression became annoyed, he knew it, and he couldn't help it. Why did Steve have to be so damned stubborn? "What's your problem, Rogers? You've been biting my head off all night."

"You're my problem!" Steve snapped, and Bucky blinked before his eyes narrowed.

"That right? That's a real nice thing to say to the only friend you got." Bucky snapped back, and he regretted the words instantly. True or not, he didn't mean to say it. His point was that he had Steve's back, and he should just accept that, instead of fighting with Bucky over _every little thing_.

Steve laughed, but Bucky recognized that it was hollow. "Yup, you're right. My only friend. I should fall in line like the rest of them and stop making a fuss, right?

Those words stung, it was exactly what he'd been thinking about. How Steve seemed to underestimate the value he placed in Steve, the way he misunderstood Bucky. "That's not-Steve...what are you...I don't wanna fight with you! I'm just trying to help!"

"That's just it, I don't _want_ your help!" Steve snapped back.

Bucky took the words like a little punch in the gut. "Well...fine then!" Bucky snapped back. "Do what you want! See if I give a damn!" he glared at Steve a moment before he turned on his heels and stalked back into the building. If he stayed, he and Steve would only fight, or he'd do something stupid and go and reveal just how much Steve hurt him treating Bucky like an enemy for trying to be his friend. Family. Which is what he considered them. It wasn't like Steve didn't mother-hen Bucky, because he _sure as Hell did_. But it was a double-standard. When Bucky tried to do it back, Steve took it personally. It wasn't that he thought Steve couldn't take care of himself, it was just that _he didn't have to_. What did he take Bucky for, if he thought Bucky could just stand by and see Steve be upset or hurt, or handle his burdens alone?

Bucky headed back inside and found himself at the table with the girls, who preened at first, but then one went and said.

"Oh, good, you got rid of the pest. He was just being so creepy, staring at me like that...you could do better for friends." she addressed Bucky, and she said it like she thought she was being cute or something, and her friend giggled beside her.

The already irked Bucky slammed his palm on the table, and both girls jumped. "He's not creepy and he's not a pest, he's _my_ best friend, you bit-" he forced himself to bite his tongue, but the damage was done. A cup of water was thrown in his face, and the girls huffed and puffed and made a big scene, telling him how terrible he was and so on as they left.

Bucky stood for a long moment, ignoring the eyes on him as water dripped off his face. All he could see was Steve jerking away, his angry expression as he snapped at Bucky and told him he didn't want his help. He knew it was just Steve, he knew it had to do with the other's insecurities, but some part of him still doubted himself. Wondered if he handled things right, wondered if he had any right to try and be so close to something so good. Guys wanted to be him, girls wanted to be with him, but he knew they all thought he wouldn't amount to much. Teachers said it often enough, and what those guys and girls wanted from him wasn't _him_. Steve was the only one that ever looked at him and really saw him. Which only made it worse when Steve seemed to doubt him, or doubt how much he genuinely loved the little punk.

Bucky left the place with his hands buried in his pockets and his expression set in a deep frown. This wasn't how he'd wanted to spend this time of year with Steve. He'd wanted to make it _good_. But somehow he'd gone and screwed it up.

Bucky glanced skyward, and he noted the way one of the stars overhead seemed to flicker brightly a moment. He thought he remembered something about exploding stars from science class, vaguely, it meant a dying star or something like that. But in the end, it just kept on shining and reminding him of the little blue-eyed kid who'd stumbled into his life and never left.

Bucky hoped he never would.

**~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~**

**Wow. I didn't even know entirely where Bucky was at until I finished. Really gives you perspective. Steve thinks Bucky's all clueless and oblivious, but actually Bucky's a sharp cookie. He's just being shrewd to spare Steve's feelings, inadvertantly making him feel worse. I think Bucky does have a fairly dark character, especially after his initial rescue from Hydra [and jeez, after Winter Soldier], but when he's with Steve he just wants to be the good person Steve sees when he looks at him. And then he's just a softie. Aghh. Feels. I love these peeps too much. 3 Thanks Hieiko. You rock my world. And give me motivation to continue despite initial uncertainty. XD And those of you who kindly gave kudos and subscribed. Bwahaha. Next chapter is the good ole switcheroo, and will feature both their POVs and perhaps be less voice-driven. We'll see. I never really know until I'm writing it, I guess. XD Thanks! Enjoy!~ Witchy~**


	3. Promises Like Snowflakes

**BWAH! Seeing the 10pm showing of X-Men Days of Future Past in my debut as male Loki. Maybe this time people won't call me Thor. In my green outfit. And golden helmet. And black hair. While carrying a Thor plush. "_ I digress. GONNA TRY AND BUST THIS OUT. Oh, gracious. Feels.  Hieiko, thank you for your review!  : ' D Thanks for the kudos and subscriptions, peeps.  They encouraged me. XD And now I get to do...THIS! And apparently it's the longest chapter in this story yet. XD Enjoy~**

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_"You're_ _**nothing** _ _, Barnes. You're gonna die in that war, guys like you always end up cannon fodder. You hear me? Now get back to class. Start another fight, and I'll suspend you."_

_The lecture had gone on, and Barnes had taken it as he always did. Because pointing out that the 'fight' began with trying to defend Steve would only make things harder on Steve. They'd say he was a 'snitch'. And then the teachers would get involved and...no. Better to let them think Bucky had just been causing trouble like they thought he always did._

_But it took everything in him not to clock that crap-a** principal right then._

_Bucky stormed out of the office, and straight into a body he nearly toppled over. "Watch where you're-" he started to snap before he realized who it was, and then he had an arm out in concern as he steadied the other male. "Steve?"_

_"You got in trouble for me again, didn't you?"_

_Bucky could see the frown, the self-disappointment on Steve's face, and it damn near killed him. "Hell, no." he drawled. "Those losers had it coming, it was worth a little slap on the wrist. Don't you worry 'bout a thing, Stevie."_

_"But, Buck, I should-"_

_Bucky loped an arm around Steve and steered him away from the office. "You should shut up and come grab some lunch with me. I'm freaking starving." Bucky 'whined' as he distracted the other from foolish thoughts of 'coming clean'. Bucky had done what needed to be done, and he didn't mind taking a rap for it. Anythin' for Stevie._

_And just to piss that prick-principal off._

Bucky woke up with a start from the vivid dream, or memory rather. It had taken place only about two weeks ago. He'd been in fights since then, but none of them on school property. Not because he would have avoided a fight, but because none had come up. Maybe the idiots had finally wisened up to the fact that Bucky would royally kick all their a**es every time.

Bucky's gaze slid around the room, illuminated by morning sunlight, and he realized that although the room was familiar...it wasn't _his_.

_What the Hell am I doing in Steve's room?_

Bucky thought back to the night before and it came easily to him. He hadn't gotten drunk, he wasn't suffering from a hangover, and he definitely remembered going home alone and sober. After a fight with Steve that the mere memory of caused his heart to clench a little. So how was he in Steve's room? In Steve's _bed_. "Steve-" he called out as he sat up, only to draw short as he heard his voice. A voice that was as familiar as his own, but not _his_.

Confusion laced his expression as his brow furrowed and he looked down, only to choke at the sight that greeted him.

The small torso with the baggy shirt, the small, too-thin hands, the general lack of space occupied by his body...and as he gained cognizance and left his half-asleep state behind, he realized he _felt_ wrong. There was a dull ache in his chest, and the feeling of sturdy, familiar muscles was now replaced by a lightness and a strangeness. He recognized the body too well, but it wasn't his own. It was _Steve's_.

Bucky threw the blanket off himself, and sure enough, it was a pair of scrawny, short legs that greeted him. _I'm dreaming...that's it, I'm still asleep. Okay, Buck, wake the Hell up..._ _ **now**_ _._ For good measure, he gave himself a sharp pinch and he hissed in surprise as it hurt. A dream wasn't supposed to hurt, was it?

Bucky stumbled to legs rendered shaky from shock more than anything else, and he stumbled to Steve's bathroom where he stared into a mirror dumbfounded.

Pale skin, scrawny body, light blonde hair, big blue eyes. Steven Grant Rogers through and through.

Bucky stared at the mirror in slightly open-mouthed horror, and he experimentally poked at his cheek. The mirror image moved as he did, he could feel the pressure on his cheek, Hell, he could see the stunned expression he knew he was wearing. "This...isn't possible." he whispered in Steve's voice. He leaned closer to his reflection and put his hand up to the mirror, which continued to mirror his movements. The small hand he'd held so many times...was now his own?

There was a loud, urgent knock on the door and Bucky about jumped out of his newfound skin. Who the Hell could that be? But then it occurred to Bucky...if he was in Steve's body, then maybe...

Bucky, uncomfortable as he could possibly be, made his way through the small apartment to the front door and after a moment's hesitation, he opened it up and found himself greeted by another all-too-familiar face. His own.

Bucky simply stared, struck dumb for the second time that morning as he found himself looking up at himself. At a pair of eyes that were confused, and concerned, and a mouth that was quirked into a worried grimace just the way Steve always did.

"Bucky?" he heard his own voice, hesitant and perhaps a little shaky, but it confirmed what he'd already guessed. And there was a pit in his stomach as he got the sudden, impossible feeling that this wasn't a dream at all. It was too damned real.

"Steve?" he croaked.

...

Steve hadn't slept well that night. He tossed and turned, and tried to turn his mind off, but for all that he felt exhausted: he just couldn't drift off to sleep. He must have at some point though, because as the morning light streamed in through his window, he found himself waking up.

He sighed, or maybe yawned, and stretched his limbs out only to feel his hands thump against the wall behind him. His brow furrowed as he opened his eyes, and realized his body felt... _wrong_. The dull ache in his chest wasn't there, and his body felt kind of heavy, but not the way it did when he couldn't catch his breath. This was something else, he felt...strong?

Steve lifted a hand above his eyes and noticed two things at once. For the first, the hand that greeted him was not his own. It was too large, too firm, but not unfamiliar. And he noticed at the same time that he was most definitely not in his room. A strange panic seized him as he sat upright and tried to figure out just what was going on. He was in Bucky's room, Bucky was nowhere in sight, he had no idea how or why he was there, but moreover...

Steve looked down at himself, at a muscular, bare chest that he knew full well wasn't his own, and as he pulled back the blanket to see the rest covered only by a pair of boxers, well...he knew _that_ wasn't his either. "B-Bucky!" he yelped, because in his moment of panic, despite how much Hell he gave Bucky for it...his first instinct was to seek Bucky. But there was no answer and after a tense, stunned moment, he stumbled out of bed and to his feet.

Everything around him seemed so... _small_. Steve padded to the bathroom where he stared at his reflection, and unknowingly did very much as Bucky had done that same morning. He prodded at himself and his reflection, and could not wake himself from the dream he was certain that it had to be. But after a long while of that, and simply staring at himself, he decided that on the off-chance that this wasn't a dream...he needed to find Bucky. And if he were in Bucky's body, then Bucky...

 _Oh, no_.

Steve threw on some of Bucky's clothes, and began a hurried pace to his own house, where Bucky would presumably be if this were not a dream. Or even if it was. But as he started a brisk walk, he realized that he didn't have to...Bucky wasn't asthmatic, Bucky could _run_. And so he ran, he pushed his feet against the pavement - _faster, faster_ \- and the burn was glorious. Steve had never been able to run like that. He'd heard boys complain about it in gym, and he had no idea what they were complaining for. It felt amazing, _he_ felt amazing.

But the distance to his little apartment wasn't much, and the moment he reached the door, any humor he'd gained was lost as he considered what he might be about to face. This had to be a dream, and even if 'Bucky' were in 'Steve's' body...he'd wake up soon and it would all be over.

But what if he didn't?

...

The pair stared each other down in familiar bodies, with familiar faces, that weren't their own. After a moment, Steve reached out a shaky hand to Bucky's cheek-his cheek-and sure enough it was flesh and blood real. This didn't feel like a dream at all. "That really you, Buck?" his voice sounded hoarse to his own ears, or Bucky's, rather.

Bucky, for his part, flinched slightly at the touch and Steve didn't take it personally. Bucky wasn't flinching from Steve so much as from himself and the situation. Bucky brought his hand up to cover Steve's and grip it a little too hard as he nodded. "What the Hell is going on, Rogers?"

"You got me." Was the only reply he could give as he and Bucky continued to stare. It was just too weird.

"This has to be a dream...right?"

The fact that the dream-Bucky was asking him if it was a dream, tended to further the possibility in Steve's mind that it was _not_. "Has to be." Steve echoed his agreement, but then added lowly. "But we're not waking up."

Something miserable flashed across Bucky's expression, and it was clear that the same train of thought had occurred to Bucky.

"But...it's gotta be a dream...people don't...we can't just..." Bucky Barnes was at a rare loss for words, and Steve wasn't remotely inclined to heckle him for it. The hand that gripped his own moved as Bucky set a palm against Steve's- _Bucky's_ -chest. "It doesn't feel like a dream though." he half-whispered.

Steve watched his friend sympathetically a moment, before he gently moved Bucky's hand away. Dream or not, they couldn't really hash this out in the open doorway of his apartment. "Inside?" he made the word a question, and Bucky blinked like he hadn't even realized they were outside before he headed in and Steve followed.

Now that Bucky's back was turned, and he could watch himself walk, he was struck by how _small_ he seemed. Was that always how Bucky saw him? No wonder he'd never cut him a break, no wonder Bucky didn't think he could take care of himself. _No wonder he thinks I'm weak_. The bitter thought crossed his mind and Steve mentally smacked himself. This wasn't at all the time to play the self-pity game.

Bucky had taken a seat on the couch and he sat awkwardly, like a kid who was about to be in trouble. But Steve figured it was just that he was uncomfortable, and unused to the way things felt in his current state. Hell, it was Steve's body and even _he_ still felt uncomfortable in it.

Steve took a seat next to Bucky, and he stared at his best friend as he nibbled his lower lip, but Bucky for his part seemed content to flex his fingers as he did when he was anxious and stare at the ground. He was looking _down_ at Bucky. That was something new. "You alright, Buck?" he finally asked, because it was the only handle he could grasp on the situation.

Bucky jerked, like he hadn't known Steve was there, and then his mouth curved into a miserable grimace. "Not the word I'd use." he eyed Steve then, and a bit of concern flickered into his eyes. "What about you? Are you all good?"

"Considering I just woke up in my best friend's body...yeah..."

An awkward silence descended again, and Steve supposed the fact that they were still pretending it might be a dream might account for why they could talk about it relatively calmly. Like this wasn't insane and terrifying and impossible.

Bucky had been strumming his fingers on his thigh for most of the time, but he stopped suddenly and regarded Steve with a frown. "Let's say...let's say maybe this is..." The world 'real' didn't seem to want to make it's way past his lips. "Somethin' had to make this happen, right? Did you go somewhere? Do somethin'?"

Steve was at once thoughtful and offended. His eyes narrowed slightly as his own lips, or Bucky's rather, formed a frown. "Why are you assumin' it was me? And what'ya think I did? Waved a magic wand?"

The already tense Bucky didn't seem to appreciate his sarcasm. "Well I know I didn't do it, I went home after you-after last night."

Steve didn't miss the skipped beat. "After I _what_?" Getting angry felt easier than being terrified, it was almost a relief. If he focused on a fight with Bucky, he could pretend that he wasn't inches away from a panic attack.

"After you bit my freakin' head off for nothin', Rogers." Bucky snapped back.

Steve felt a bit of legitimate anger lace through him at that. Of course Bucky thought it was nothing. "Well, I'd agree with you, but then we'd both be wrong." Steve drawled back, and he could practically see the moment where Bucky went from annoyed to mildly pissed.

"Really? You wanna do this _now_?"

"So this is my fault too, huh? Anythin' else ya feel like blamin' me for, Buck?"

"I'm not- _damnit, Steve_ -what the Hell's wrong with you?" Bucky demanded as he rose from the couch to glare down at Steve.

Steve, in turn, took the opportunity to stand as well and glare back at Bucky. Only this time, he was looking down, this time, Bucky had to look up at _him_. "I don't know, Buck, why don't you tell me? You're in my body now."

Bucky's jaw clenched, and there was a look in his eye that Steve recognized, like maybe he wanted to hit him, but instead his fingers just flexed at his sides. That wasn't an anxious gesture now, it was an angry one. "Just shut your mouth, Rogers." Bucky growled, and his posture and gaze as he was forced to look up at Steve made it clear he didn't like that one bit.

 _Well, goody_. Steve stepped just a bit closer, and left only a few inches between them as he gazed down at Bucky. "Why don't you make me?" he challenged, and that was a new one. Bucky's eyes widened slightly, and Steve felt an odd flicker of guilt. This wasn't the time, and he didn't even really want to fight. It really did just feel easier than giving in to panicking, than facing reality.

...

Bucky went in at Steve's suggestion and sat on the couch, which seemed entirely too big. His body didn't sink comfortably in, the cushions seemed sturdier than him at this point. And that was saying something, 'cause it was a ratty old couch. He felt like he'd sunk into himself, Steve's body was too tight, too small, and he felt like he'd been shoved into a container that couldn't fit him. And all the while, he'd noted that the thin, dull ache in his chest seemed to be growing.

Steve spoke from beside him suddenly, his own voice used to address him, and he was a little startled. He'd been lost in thought, and he didn't expect to hear himself suddenly.

But Steve was concerned about him, and that was a little snap back to reality. Or dream-reality. He was hoping against hope for the latter. But even so, he should have been taking care of Steve-not the other way around.

And as he thought about it, he realized suddenly that if this had happened...there had to be a reason. If they could find that reason...

But rather than be the little budding genius that he knew his best friend could be, Steve took it personally for some reason and Bucky found himself in a fight he had no interest in being in. At the moment, all it did was make him want to throw up. This was too damned much to handle, and Steve's recent attitude adjustment wasn't helping. And then Steve went and tried to intimidate him _in Bucky's own damned body_! The pain in his chest got a little sharper, and he felt out of breath suddenly.

"Just shut your mouth, Rogers." he finally said, a little concerned as he rubbed his now-small chest absently. He couldn't do this right now, he really couldn't. And he couldn't deal with more of Steve's self-deprecating implications. This was not the time for a pity-party. It was the time to wake up or to panic, to be blunt.

"Why don't you make me?" Steve challenged him back and Bucky was taken aback. Was Steve really going to be cocky against him while in Bucky's body? Was he _kidding_?

"Sit down, Steve." If he'd been in his body, the tone would have been a warning that brooked no argument. As it was, he felt now he just sounded stern and maybe a little sullen. He tried to draw in a breath and found it wouldn't come properly, he coughed slightly, and then gagged a little as he struggled to draw in a sharp breath, unused to the sensation. With a budding horror, he thought he knew what was going on.

"I'll stand, thanks." Steve snarked back, until he caught sight of the fact that Bucky had gone pale and seemed a little unsteady.

Bucky opened his mouth to reply, but found himself coughing instead and he clutched at his chest that now felt too-tight. "S-Ste-" he started to wheeze before he was wracked with coughs, and he found that air wasn't very forthcoming.

In an instant, Steve's expression went from mocking to worried as he too realized what was happening. He seemed stunned a split second, and then he gripped Bucky's shoulders and gently as he guided him to sit back on the couch.

...

"S-Ste-" Bucky's voice was weak suddenly, a small, wheezy exhale that made Steve's heart sink.

Steve had noticed Bucky rubbing his chest, but he hadn't thought much of it at first. He'd been focused on other things, and it was so outlandish [even despite their situation] that it hadn't occurred to him to consider the simple logic. It wasn't until Bucky suddenly paled, and he noted the way the other was coughing and gulping that he made the connection. Steve was an asthmatic. Bucky was in Steve's body.

Bucky was having an asthma attack.

Steve's anger melted into panic instantly as he helped the other to sit. The possibility of this occurring hadn't...well, _occurred_ to him. And in those split seconds, he found he couldn't nearly hold Bucky's over-protectiveness [at least in this regard] against him. Because Bucky had been having an attack all of five seconds and Steve felt like his own heart might leap out of his chest in fear for the other's safety and well-being.

"Hold on, Buck, I'll get the inhaler. Just try to breathe, nice and slow." he instructed as he darted over to his nightstand and returned in seconds to pass it to Bucky. "Remember to hold it down and-that's right."

Bucky, whose eyes were wide, accepted the inhaler and made short work of using it. He'd assisted Steve often enough that he supposed Bucky had picked up on the operation. But he didn't always have an inhaler handy, he couldn't always afford one. [Something that Bucky always found a way to correct-whether or not Steve protested]. And it was Bucky who soothed him and talked him down. His mother, on occasion, had been able to do so to a degree. But really, it was only Bucky who could, only Bucky who could help him breathe again.

Steve had sat right next to Bucky on the couch, close enough that their thighs touched as he rubbed a soothing hand on that too-small back. Bucky's coughing slowly ceased, as his wheezes became the breaths of a man whose heart had been in a state of panic.

After a minute, he passed the inhaler back to Steve and said lowly. "That...really sucked."

"Tell me about it." Steve whispered back, all vitriol lost from him. In the end, he let his hand stop rubbing Bucky in order to place an arm around his shoulder lightly like Bucky had done so many times for him. And Bucky seemed so small in his grasp, so fragile, and the feeling that he might be able to break Bucky was a little terrifying. Bucky and fragile didn't go together, it was inconceivable and unnerving. And he blamed himself for this, at least, because he'd gone and gotten Bucky worked up. He didn't know how to handle Steve's body, and that didn't always matter anyway. Sometimes the attacks were inevitable. "You alright, Buck?" Steve asked for the second time that morning.

Bucky inhaled slowly and gave a slow nod, before he turned miserable eyes on Steve and took everything in him not to pull his best friend close and just hold on to him. For his sake as well as Bucky's, because Bucky was the only thing that made sense in his life. "It's not a dream, is it?" Bucky whispered.

Steve supposed his own expression was miserable then as he said softly. "I don't think so."

" _F***_." Bucky breathed, before he slumped a little and Steve used a little force to pull Bucky against his side slightly. He half expected Bucky to pull away, but in the end, he just lifted a hand and gripped a fistful of Steve's shirt lightly. Steve was relieved, because if Bucky had been angry with him or blamed him, or denied his help...he couldn't have really blamed him. But it would have stung, and it would have meant that he had nothing to hold on to. And it was strange to feel that small body in the crook of his arm, to know that it was his body he was holding, to know that he was holding it with Bucky's, and to know that that small warmth at his side _was_ Bucky.

What stole _his_ breath and assailed him with guilt though, was when Bucky tilted his head up from his position against Steve and lifted the arm from Steve's shirt to his shoulder. His hand trembled slightly, and Steve suspected it was as much to due with his emotions over the situation as it was with the residual physical effects of his first [and he hoped last] asthma attack. Bucky squeezed his shoulder and said softly. "We'll fix this, Stevie...don't worry, alright? We're in...whatever the Hell this is...together."

Bucky definitely had the short end of the stick, Steve had been a total arse, he'd had his first asthma attack, and he was _still_ trying to take care of Steve. And he couldn't be mad or bitter in the least. This felt like the old days, when Bucky's warmth was something new and wondrous, and he couldn't believe that someone like Buck would give him the time of day, let alone devote himself to him.

Steve gave in and slid his other arm around Bucky as he pulled him into a firm hug. It was strange to feel like he had to be gentle with Bucky, like he was breakable, but at the same time it was a little intoxicating. Bucky had to rely on him a bit, he could take care of Bucky. For his part, Bucky simply lowered his arm and slipped it around Steve's waist as he continued to lean against him as he brought his head to Steve's shoulder [his shoulder], and his breathing had finally become something normal.

"Together." Steve agreed softly, and he heard Bucky sigh as if in relief. Had he thought Steve wouldn't be on the same page? Steve knew he'd been a little unfair with Bucky lately, but he had to know that Steve would do anything for him all the same. They were family.

They would fix this together.

Somehow.

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**Well, I didn't finish last night. But I went as Loki and cuddled Thor and you should all see X-Men because it was so amazing I almost cried just for joy of it's existence. Or maybe not. But close enough, I wanna see it again, and now have too many CharlesxErikxLoganxHankxMystique feels. I digress. And Winter Soldier arrived and looks so shnazzy...I DIGRESS AGAIN. Steve and Bucky managed to get out their reactions, and have an angsty spat, and then have schmoop. I love how Steve just melts for Bucky when he thinks he's in danger. I love me some Protective!Steve...but Bucky still wins the day in the end. XD It was a little awkward to write at first...and I kept being distracted...but then it got thrilling and here we go. XD Thing I may have settled on a nice compromise of writing styles, between generic and voices. Maybe. We'll see. Reviews are like verbal hugs.  Enjoy! ~Witchy~**


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